


Can't Stop Desire

by ThisShipHasSails



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-29
Updated: 2019-01-31
Packaged: 2019-10-18 22:41:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17589788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThisShipHasSails/pseuds/ThisShipHasSails
Summary: Yaz was tired of it all. She had done her bit, had said her part. It was on the Doctor now to act. Or not. Whichever way, the ball was in her court, and Yaz was tired of playing.





	1. getting tired of making all this racket

**Author's Note:**

> Title and some lines in the story are taken from Tegan and Sara’s “Can’t Stop Desire”. Check it out, it’s a brilliant song by a brilliant band. Also, I was aiming for something much fluffier, but then it got angsty first. But this will be in three parts, so don’t worry, there is going to be some fluff. Eventually.

Yaz was tired of it all. 

More specifically, she was tired of dropping hints that she wanted more, of begging for attention from the Doctor, of seeking out the kind of tension that started as soon as the two women found themselves in the same room alone. 

She was tired of wanting _her_. 

And she was tired of the Doctor pretending that she did not get it, that she did not understand what Yaz was telling her in not so many words. The woman was a good two millennia old! Of course she knew what was going on. Her obliviousness was a mask, and an ill-fitting one at that. 

And if she so desperately wanted to hold on to it, then that was her decision, Yaz thought. She had done her bit, had said her part. It was on the Doctor now to act. Or not. Whichever way, the ball was in her court, and Yaz was tired of playing. 

So she watches Ryan and Graham leave the TARDIS after their latest adventure to get some “shut-eye” – Ryan’s words – “and some proper non-alien food” – Graham’s – and turns to the Doctor, who is leaning against the console, looking at her with a question in her eyes.

“Yaz? What is it?” 

Her next words are hard, but she needs to say them. Needs to get this out.

“Doctor, I can’t do this anymore.”

She cannot bear to look at the Doctor as she says it. Knows that if she were to look into her eyes now, she would never find the strength to do what she feels she has to.

“What do you mean?”

The question is sincere, Yaz knows, but it just adds to her pent-up frustration.

“This! Us! I told you over and over again what you mean to me. And I meant it, all of it. That I wanted more time with you, that I was with you, whatever happens. And all you ever do is swallow hard and press your lips together and look at me with those, those eyes of yours, and never say a word. And I am so tired of it all! It’s nonsense!”

Only the silence that follows her outburst makes her realise how loud she has become.

“Nonsense?” 

Where Yaz’s voice was raised, the Doctor’s is low, and suddenly Yaz knows why whole species live in fear of the Doctor. 

She dares to look up and sees a storm in those green eyes that turns them almost brown.

“You have no idea of the dangers that I put you in every time I pull that leaver. I have no idea what new hell is waiting for us every time I open the TARDIS doors!”

Yaz pulls herself up to her full height and meets the Doctor’s stare straight on. “I don’t need you to protect me from the evils of the universe.”

“No. But you need me to protect you from myself.”

Silence.

“Yaz, do you know how many people have died because of me?” Her voice cracks at the end, and her carefully constructed mask of control crumbles ever so slightly. But Yaz has heard this spiel before and she has just about had enough of the Doctor’s self-deprecation, so she decides to call her out on it. 

“No, Doctor, I don’t. But do you know how many have lived?”

Silence. Again.

And it’s the silence more than the argument before that drains Yaz of the last remaining drops of energy she still had. Even standing is exhausting now, and she knows that she does not have much time before she will break down, and she really doesn’t want to do that in front of the Doctor. So she takes her broken heart in her hands and turns towards the open TARDIS doors to leave. 

She turns around one last time and looks at the Doctor, really looks at her, and what she sees almost forces her to her knees. The woman is beautiful, even in her desperation. Or maybe because of it, Yaz thinks. And oddly enough, it’s her hands that draw her gaze. Not the eyes that have gone from the storm of anger to the fog of desolation, or her hair that falls into her face as she slowly lowers her head, but her hands that hang limply by her side and are, for once, completely still. 

The Doctor’s hands are never still. 

And Yaz knows this because she has watched these hands so many times. They are in perpetual motion as the Doctor dances around the console or as she uses them to draw whole worlds in the air while she talks a mile an hour, and Yaz vividly recalls the feeling of those hands on her shoulder and in her own hand, and the memory makes her shiver with sadness and longing.

The only time Yaz has ever seen the Doctor’s hands still was when she was tied up on that ducking stool. And even those were happier times compared to now, as the Doctor’s hands hang limply by her side and she doesn’t know what to do with them, or herself. She’s lost, and Yaz cannot bear that sight one moment longer.

“Doctor, I can’t force you to see that you deserve to be loved. But I can’t go on like this. I love you. And I want to be with you. But if that’s not something that you can do, then I have to go. I’m sorry.”

And with that, she is out the doors and into the chilly November night. She knows the way to her family’s flat and she walks it blindly, her eyes half closed against the wind and the tears. 

“Yaz!”

She hears her calling out her name, and it makes her stumble, her heart beating desperately in its desire for her to turn around and run back into the arms of the woman she loves. But her legs carry her on until she stumbles into the flat she once called home.


	2. didn't wanna be so invested

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She knows the old saying that time heals all wounds. She also knows that it’s complete and utter bollocks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As before, title taken from Tegan and Sara's "Can't Stop Desire", which is actually called "Stop Desire", as I just found out. Ah well.

Time passes. Somehow. Although she doesn’t quite know how, and for once in her lives, she doesn’t care. The passing of time, in whichever direction, has always been one of the constants in her lives, and she is used to measuring it by the steady rhythm of her heartbeats. But right now, she just feels her hearts breaking over and over again.

She knows the old saying that time heals all wounds. She also knows that it’s complete and utter bollocks. Not that she hasn’t tried, of course. There were times when time was all she had. But all it ever does is pass. And run out on her. 

She realises that she must have dozed off when she wakes with a jolt. Her position with her back against the console is awkward, and she knows from the stiffness in her limbs that she will feel this tomorrow. Or tonight. Whatever comes next, she really doesn’t care. 

There is that half second of blissful ignorance between sleep and waking when she doesn’t know why she’s sitting on the TARDIS floor, and she tries to hold on to it the moment she starts to remember. And when she does, when she recalls the image of Yaz leaving the TARDIS and walking out of her life, it knocks the air out of her lungs, and she wishes desperately that she could go back to sleep and forget that she is alone. Again. 

Then she remembers the reason she’s awake in the first place and quickly jumps to her feet, her hand already in her coat pocket to get out her sonic in order to defend herself against the intruder that materialised inside the TARDIS with the loud _pop_ that woke her up. But before she can even retract her hand from her pocket, she freezes as she sets eyes on the figure in front of her. 

“River”, she whispers. 

And she swears she must have grown a third heart, because surely there must be a limit to the number of times that two hearts can break in the span of a couple of hours, as she feels her legs give out underneath her and suddenly finds herself kneeling on the floor. 

“Don’t get your hopes up, sweetie. Just the data ghost version of my glorious self.”

“Now that’s just cruel”, she cries. Tears are streaming down her face and her whole chest is aching from her sobs. 

“Why are you here?” 

“What? Can a woman not visit her own wife?” Her voice is teasing, but her eyes are full of compassion and concern for the woman in front of her. 

She takes a couple of steps to close the distance between them and kneels down so her face is level with the Doctor’s. It’s a tremendous effort and she knows she will not be able to keep this up for long, but by the sheer force of her will she summons the energy required to render this flimsy ghost shell of hers solid and cups the Doctor’s cheek in her hand. 

To feel the Doctor lean into her touch breaks her heart and mends it in the same instance.

“I am here to teach you something you’ve forgotten, my love”, she says softly.

“And what would that be, Professor Song?” The ease of being together after all this time apart makes the Doctor smile for the first time since Yaz left.

 _Yaz left_. 

The force of the realisation hits her hard and makes her cry out.

“River”, and her name on her lips turns into a sob, as she leans into the arms of another woman who left her, and buries her head in her shoulders.

“Shh, I know. It’s alright, my love”, River soothes her as she sits down on the cold TARDIS floor and pulls the Doctor into her lap, rocking her gently and praying to the Gods she has never believed in to give her the power to stay solid just a little bit longer.

Time is kind to them this time round, as it passes slowly enough for the Doctor to calm down to the feeling of her wife gently kissing the top of her head.

She turns her head to look up and into eyes that she knows have forced whole armies to their knees but that now hold nothing but love and kindness and understanding for her. And for once, the Doctor accepts it all, as she lifts her hand to stroke River’s cheek and meets her lips with her own. It’s a kiss that holds them in the moment, a kiss that slows down time in that way that only kissing her wife ever does. 

But as every moment does, this one, too, ends, and as their lips part, the Doctor can feel that they don’t have much time.

So she repeats the question she needs answered.

“Why are you here, River?”

“Because you need a reminder that love is worth it, even if you already know the end. And who knows, this time round the end might just be happy.” The soft smile in her wife’s eyes is as sincere as it is sad.

“It never is.” 

“But that doesn’t mean that you can’t be.”

“But it will hurt!”

“You are already hurting! Look at you!” 

River didn’t mean to raise her voice, but she finds her spouse’s tendency towards stubborn petulance irritating at the best of times, and now is not one of those. 

To soften the blow of her words, she puts her finger underneath her wife’s chin to lift her head and look into her eyes. 

“What do I do now?”, the Doctor asks, her words sounding as lost as she feels. And she hates feeling lost.

“I suggest you get that gorgeous ass of yours in gear and tell her that you want her.”

“Need her”, the Doctor murmurs, more to herself than to her wife. And then, so quiet River has to lean in even closer to hear her, “love her.”

River smiles, and it finally reaches her eyes. 

“Then my work here is done”, she whispers as she kisses her wife’s forehead.

“Oh, it never is.” 

“And don’t I know it.”

The Doctor manages a brave smile as her wife pulls her to her feet. 

“See you around, Professor Song.”

“Goodbye, sweetie.”

And as the Doctor watches the last whispers of her wife’s ghostly presence disappear, she feels her hearts break one more time but knows that, with any luck, they might also just be beginning to heal.

“Love, my love.” An echo.

And with that, she sets the coordinates to Sheffield.


	3. in a minute, I’ll be hoping that you’re outside

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s easier to be brave when you have nothing to lose, she thinks. Right now, she has everything to fight for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s a wrap, folks! Thank you so much for all the kudos and comments. They really mean a lot! Also, in this universe, Yaz knows about River and understands that it is possible to love more than one person, sometimes even at the same time. Bcs let's be real, she totally would.

She knocks. 

And as the door opens, it takes her a second to realise that the woman who stands there is not Yaz, though she looks a lot like her.

“Hi, Yaz’s sister”, the Doctor tries cheerfully, but the frown on Sonya’s face makes it clear to her that this will be an uphill battle. 

“What do you want?”

The Doctor swallows hard. She doesn’t scare easily. In fact, she has stared down the odd demon in her time and has won whole battles on her courage alone, but the cold look on Sonya’s face positively terrifies her. 

It’s easier to be brave when you have nothing to lose, she thinks. Right now, she has everything to fight for.

“Is Yaz home?” 

“Yeah”, Sonya says, and the small pause is just long enough to get the Doctor’s hopes up. “But she doesn’t want to see you”, she adds, and all those hopes come crushing down at the Doctor’s feet.

But she hasn’t come here to give up easily. So she puts on a smile that convinces exactly nobody and starts rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet.

“Oh well, that’s a shame, because there’s this planet I’ve just discovered and it’s made up entirely of marshmallows, and I know it’s hard to believe, but you can believe me, because I’ve seen it with my own eyes, actually tasted it with my own – ”

“Cut the crap.”

“Excuse me?”

“I said cut the crap. If you love my sister, say so. If you want her to come back to travel with you in that weird box of yours, say so. But don’t waste your breath babbling.”

Fearless, and straight to the point. River would like her, the Doctor thinks. So she takes a leaf out of both women’s books, takes her hearts in her hands, and jumps.

“I love your sister, and I want her to come back to travel with me in that weird box of mine.” 

She releases a breath that she hadn’t realised she was holding. 

“Though don’t tell the TARDIS I called her weird. Never gonna live that down. Might throw me out again, in fact, and I don’t think I could shake off another crash through the roof of another train, though I don’t hold that against her, seeing that I got to meet your sister on that train, and – ”

“Still babbling, Doctor.” 

It’s the sound of that second voice that finally shuts her up. 

She had been looking at her shoes for the last few minutes, but now her head shoots up and her eyes lock with Yaz’s, who has appeared behind her sister in the doorframe. 

“Yaz.”

And suddenly, after all the incessant talking from before, that’s the only word that comes to her mind. It’s also the only word that matters to her right there and then.

“Doctor. You’ve come back.”

“Always.”

“Why?” 

She swallows and forces herself to keep looking at Yaz, ignoring the wild tattoo of her hearts.

“Cause you were right, Yasmin Khan. Well, you and River, but don’t ever tell her I said that, she’ll be ever so smug.”

“Who’s River?”, Sonya asks.

“Well – ”

“The Doctor’s wife”, Yaz interrupts her. 

“The Doctor’s what?”, Sonya asks her sister, before turning towards the Doctor. “Hold on, you’re married? You are courting my sister until she’s all Stockholm syndroming over you, and all this time you’ve been married?”

Yaz turns to her sister, and between the Doctor showing up saying that she loves her and Sonya going into overprotective little sister mode, her brain decides to latch onto one particular detail. 

“Courting? Really? When are we, Sonya? 1872?”

“You know what I mean. And don’t go all walking OED on me. This nutter is not only a nutter, she’s also a married nutter!”

“And married to a nutter”, the Doctor murmurs.

“Not helping, Doctor”, Yaz hisses in her general direction, before turning back to her sister. “It’s complicated, Sonya.”

Her sister huffs. Actually huffs. 

“And who are you to go all preachy about monogamy? Anyway, it’s not like that. It’s all in the past.”

“How can it be in the past when that River person has got opinions about your relationship?”

Yaz has to admit that that is a fair point and turns to the Doctor for help. 

“Timey-wimey?”, the blonde tries with a shrug and a smile, but Sonya only shakes her head.

“Mental. That’s what you are. You’re both proper mental.” 

And with that, she turns on her heels and disappears into the flat, leaving Yaz and the Doctor alone.

The silence that suddenly stretches between them is uneasy, until the Doctor reaches out her hand in a silent plea and Yaz takes it. 

It’s only when she feels the Doctor’s cold fingers interlinking with her own that Yaz realises how cold it is outside, and she tugs at the Doctor’s hand and pulls her inside, closing the door behind them.

Facing each other in the narrow hallway, they are suddenly very close, and Yaz swallows hard at the intensity she sees in the Doctor’s eyes.

“Why did you come back, Doctor?” She asks again. 

She thinks she knows, but she needs to hear it from her.

“Remember when I said that we can’t have a universe with no Yaz? I meant it. The universe is just a lot of empty space without you”, the Doctor says, her gaze dropping to the hand that still holds Yaz’s. 

“Without you, I am just a madwoman in a box, traveling through a universe that is forever expanding and mostly empty. And I realised that I don’t want to do this anymore. I don’t want to be without you. And I understand if you’ve changed your mind”, her breath hitches and it takes her a beat of each of her hearts before she can continue. 

“But if you’ll still have me, I’m yours.” 

She looks at her then, and all of the stars in the universe cannot compare to the beauty of her eyes. And she must know, for she has seen her fair share of stars.

The Doctor realises that she must have said this out loud as she watches said eyes fill with tears, and before she can wonder whether this is a good sign or not, they are kissing, lips and bodies meeting in a frenzy that neither of them could stop even if they wanted to. 

And it’s not as it always is in the movies, Yaz dimly thinks before her thoughts desert her altogether. It’s not soft and it’s not slow, and it for sure isn’t gentle. Instead, it’s desperate and messy, and so hot it makes her body jolt and desire pool in her core. Their mouths are all over each other, teeth grazing lips, hands tangled in hair, and they are holding on to each other’s bodies as if they were holding on to life itself. 

And maybe they are, the Doctor thinks, feeling more alive than she has done for longer than she cares to remember right now, as Yaz pushes her against the nearest wall and presses her body flush against her own.

“Oi!”

It’s Sonya’s voice that pulls them apart, panting and staring at each other, eyes full of lust and desire and something deeper, something that makes the Doctor hope for more.

“Get a room, you two!” 

And without breaking eye contact, Yaz takes the Doctor’s hand again and pulls her down the hallway.

“Not mine, though!”


End file.
